Running Fat Chef

If you are reading this, it means that I am a holder of the 40th Bank of America Chicago Marathon finisher medal. Perhaps you are a first time reader on my blog and might be asking if this is my first marathon ever or even if this is my first time doing a marathon in Chicago. The answer is safely no. Others who may have been following my journey for at least two months know that this summer/fall has been exceptionally cruel to my mental and physical. In turn, I am just as shocked that I can write this blog with joy and elaborate on the wonderful (and not so glamorous) elements of doing this particular marathon.

So You Gonna Tell Us Or Nah...

I love bullet points and lists because I am a border line lunatic. Let's see if I can wrap this up as briefly as I possibly can:

It's Goddamn Chicago: Yes, this city is windy as shit and the weather is unpredictable. From talking to my Lyft driver, he distinctively said that New Yorkers tend to either love this place or hate it. Consider me sold (but I'm not moving here any time soon or maybe never.) I'm kinda of a sucker for my congregation of NYC MTA rats who fuck shit up at 3AM to unsuspecting tourists who ain't used to their tactics.

Speaking of rats, I have not witnessed a rat YET in this city. Perhaps I have been perusing the touristy areas a bit too hard on the CTA but they haven't done the Cha Cha Slide or nothing yet since I have been here.

Chicago Marathon actually provide pre game goodies. Okay, so maybe you're not a runner and don't understand the hype of what I'm about to talk about but my runners know the deal of having some great Vasoline and bandaids on deck. This is the first marathon (or race EVER) that the organization provided a table for us to put on Vasoline for our funny parts, band aids just in case we lose a nipple and even hair ties. I was shocked. For damn near 200.00, you expect the Empire State Building in these races but I know that it takes a lot of effort to conduct such things.

The crowd is unbelievable! It was amaze balls to get greeted by literally thousands of strangers, cheering you on with cheesy, cringe worthy signs that made you want to smack the shit out of them BUT you think twice because you have to treat them like the special family member who does dumb shit and mean no harm. Look over the redundant signs and slap some hands. Keep your hand sanitizer on deck if you're a germ phobe.

Less than five assholes told me that I was ALMOST finished. In the NYC Marathon, I want to slit people's wrists when they tell me that I'm "almost done" at mile 2. Are you kidding? That's the most condescending shit to tell someone. Just shut the hell up and gimme a Snickers.

All of the cheesiest touristy sites are smack in front of you. Like bruh...as a NYC resident, I get annoyed by folks who take pictures on the Brooklyn Bridge and don't know how to move the hell along but I get why they do it. With the Chicago Marathon, you kinda wanna do it and then you kinda don't want the course sweep to take you on a date in their creepy ass van. Become one with the selfie mode, use a voice activated one and strike a pose, heifer.

You can side eye people in peace when they tell you to run faster. In the back of your mind, you can genuinely say to yourself that this person can go fuck themselves and have 49,999 other people hear your inside thoughts, agreeing with your aggravation, pain and suffering.

When you're dying, you're not alone. Call me a super extravert (or a weird balance of introverted and extraverted) but I kinda get off on the idea that other people are embracing the questionable moments, asking why the hell did I sign up for another goddamn marathon.

Children actually look precious on this day. Let me tell you that I LOVE my child but I don't necessarily love everyone else's children. I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. Judge me! BLAAAAAHHH!!! Some of you raise little spawns of Satan that make me want to chuck them somewhere but most times, children are so precious at these events. I had two offer me water, an ice popsicle and candy. Fuck stranger danger...I died for at least a hour by this point.

When you're close to death, a fellow runner starts a conversation with you (unless you have on visible headphones). Your fellow brother or sister in pavement crime knows that your soles are looking for salvation and you are one step away from a homicide charge when you see people conveniently sitting down in chairs, eating food that you don't even want.

It's perfectly OK to lose a few toenails. Yeah, they hurt like shit. I managed to lose only one and have another turn black on me during a Spartan Ultra Beast BUT if your esthetician or spa looks at you kinda funny, there's a real good reason and story to support your nubs.

Wet Tee Shirt Contest: Yup, whether you knew you had the potential to be a stripper or not, you gon learn today honey. Free the nipples or at least think that you are by allowing the sweat and cups of water cling onto your now filthy body.

It's okay that you smell like roadkill because we all smell atrocious. I think this one is self explanatory.

13.1Middle Fingers are mandatory at the half way point.Congrats, you made it but you ain't done yet. Die another 13.1 miles. You can do it (and the hotel fees, food, tourist traps and fees will thank you later for your dedication).

14. The weather is whipping your ass but there's an internal soundtrack playing just for you. Yup, we all encounter it at some point. My first 10 miles, I heard the Left Right Kill military cadence and somehow, around mile 13.1, I quickly shifted to Marilyn Manson, ODB and DMX until I actually heard Eye of the Tiger three times on the course. WTF bro...I only needed it once.15. Fuck the Posters...Peeing on yourself just a little bit, just might be okay. Well, it's fine until it's time to change and then it burns like hell. It is acid after all.16. No, please don't shit yourself. I'm serious. Find a goddamn port-a-potty.17. Outside Dutch Ovens are HILARIOUS... unless it's accompanied by shit and then, you're in danger honey.18. You feel a strange runner's high out of nowhere. Every person is different but edging death gives me life.19. Playing Russian Roulette with the Port-a-Potty and actually getting a great one is golden. Port-a-potties are like meeting Itt from a Steven King novel and you just never know if you'll make it out alive but when you do...that's already worth half the medal.20. Did I mention that you run through over 20 neighborhoods? Yes chile...you do. And guess what, your feet will feel every ounce of those 52,000 steps you'll be making for the day.21. The complimentary booze actually was pretty decent. I can honestly say that I enjoyed the hell out of the beer. Don't tell anyone that I got a second one by accident...on purpose.22. Running 26.2 miles is such a humbling experience. You are allowed to embrace the good, bad and ugly of your life and given an abundance of hours to get your entire life together (or at least a segment if you're messy like me).23. Yes, cliché but... you are doing something that many will judge the shit out of you for doing it. But guess what honey? You're doing this for you FIRST, not for anyone else. If you're looking to impress people, do a half marathon. If you're looking to test your endurance, go for the full. If you're ape shit and want to test how deep your crazy is then...24. The Chicago Marathon is my training course for the TCS NYC Marathon & the NYRR 60K. No, I don't smoke crack. Yes, I am fucking crazy. I do it all for...25. The food BIHHHH! Yup the muhfuggin food. For an entire week (or a few days), I get to vicariously be a guilt free fat ass until I start racking up calories at places like The Cheesecake Factory or Lou Malnati's pizzeria.26. The physical, mental and emotional finisher's medal. Let me be honest: I stopped running for the physical medals about a year or two ago. They collect dust on my wall (but no, you can't have it bitch) and I'm humbled when I do take the chance to look back at it. I'm able to reflect on the memories, the wonderful moments and amazing people that I met on the pavement.

26.2.Fuck the haters: We DID that boo. Yup, I'm still petty as fuck. So while I bask in being uplifted by knowing that I did something amazing, I get to throw up so many eff yous to the naysayers, doubters and jerks who want to see me fail. But you know what, my loves? While embracing your petty, wish them well. At one point, I used to be one of them negative, shady as fuck folks who looked down on this community. Now that I'm here, I'm humbled by the tenacity, power and sacrifice that you have to make to get here.

Wrap it Up Bih...

After you embrace the neurotic joys of running 26.2 miles, loving that this entire emotional and physical rollercoaster is over, you are left with your thoughts. Sure, some of us are salty about not making that PR but that's fine, darlings. Be blessed that those feet and knees are still rocking it out for you everyday. Be thankful that all of those training hours were put to good use. If you didn't make it across the finish line, know that it took a lot of balls to get you there. Waking up and kicking ass is the HARDEST part of the process.

People will shame you, guilt you and make you feel inadequate for whatever personal reason 365 1/4 days in a year but for this one day, you know that you are doing something amazing. While you may be sharing the pavement with others, your win is only for you. If someone else is inspired by your journey, let them be but encourage them to ride the wave safely, effectively and to define their own reason of why they run. Your reasoning may not make sense to someone else. That's okay boo boo. It's probably not meant for others to understand your journey. This is truly for you.

To the graduating class of 2017's 40th Bank of America Chicago Marathon who crossed the finish line or attempted it, I salute you. Congrats.

And to those who are contemplating their first marathon, 5k, 10k or first mile: You'll never know what you're capable of until you try and be consistent. Ride the wave with me.

P.S. TCS NYC Marathon, I'mma little pissed off that we don't get the changing stations like Chicago. Get it together baby. We pay 255.00 or something like that and I have to go home smelling like sewer. That ain't right.